


Memories of Another

by Terminality



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-24
Updated: 2012-03-24
Packaged: 2017-11-02 10:44:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminality/pseuds/Terminality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You remember them, each and every one, through your dreams. It pains you to see them like this, to see what they've become, but what hurts the most, more than any of the others, is seeing him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories of Another

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I get overwhelmed with feelings for the Signless. When this happens I just have to sit down and give in to the desire to write angsty prose about pre- and post-scratch Alternia. What can I say.

When you had started to remember, had been able to dig faces out of the recesses and chaos of dreams you weren't even sure were real, you had become obsessed with attempting to find each and every one of them. You had gone to painstaking efforts to find them as you remembered them, names all but forgotten, the vague memory of a face all you had to work on, and you are eternally thankful for the help and support you have found in the arms of your companions while you dive into your search.

You find the Marquise first. You know it is her even though there are so many differences, so many little changes a hardened society and culture have made to her visage and personality. Where you remember a simple blue dress there is now pirate garb, bright and flashy and over extravagant. A mess of wavy, short hair has been replaced with an equal tangle of waist-length tresses. She is the same but not, and it pains you to see the changes this world has made to her. You remember her as soft-spoken, harsh but right, loyal to her friends to a fault. When she dies it is for you, because she thinks she has to.

What you get is the Marquise Spinneret Mindfang, brutal and cold, the most feared pirate of the seas, kismesis to the one and only Orphaner Dualscar. You don't try to talk to her, know you probably couldn't if you wanted to. What would you say to a woman who has her life so well under control now? "I remember you from before, from a life you have no recollection of?"

So you watch her from afar, and pity her, because this is not the Mindfang you remember (if that was even her name), and it hurts to see her like this. To see what this world can do so starkly, because you have a comparison point, a memory of a pretty, skinny girl in a pale cerulean dress.

The next one you remember in detail comes to you in a wave of confused dreams about bright tyrian purple and piercings and long, braided hair. When you wake, you know you don't even have to find the counterpart to your nightmare, because you have been hearing about her for the entirety of your life, have seen her face on posters and books for as long as you can remember: Her Imperious Condescesion.

You remember a fiery attitude, spunky enthusiam and a fight, all tooth and claws, about something you can't quite recall. You remember how intense she was, how bright she is in your mind. The Empress is a stark contrast to the girl that you remember, the ghost in your nightmares, and it frustrates you, that the leader of your entire species is so different than she should be.

Seeing them like this, distorted reflections of the companions you remember, hurts. It makes you angry, makes you wish you could change the entire world. It is your entire motivation for the remainder of your life, to remind these people of the lives they do not remember living, of the friendships they do not remember having. It pains you to see them both, the Empress and the Marquise alike, but they are not the hardest.

The hardest is him.

In your mind he is so clear you feel as if you personally know him, even though you have never spoken in this lifetime. You have dreamt of him more times than you can remember in more detail and precision than any other dream you have ever had. He is always by your side, inseparable from you. You remember his hand on your back, a lazy smile and long, curly hair pulled back with a simple bit of string. You remember the way he was there for you, no matter what, the feeling of pity when he would sit down and ask you what to do next, what he needed to do to make this work for you.

He is with you when you scratch that universe. He stands at your side, clubs in his hand, a towering force of determination and loyalty. He is bleeding indigo from a cut under his eye, but he keeps smiling at you while you work, reassurring and pleased with himself. He comes to your side and touches your hand, pulls you into a hug.

_"See you next time, best friend."_

Everything is beginning to falter around you, to fall apart, and you are standing in a white space where all you can see are golden eyes and a gentle smile. You tell him to promise.

You do not hear his response.

When you wake from these dreams, these never ending reminders of your last moments with the moirail you know you used to have, you have pale pink stains on your cheeks and your breath is a ragged gasp. She puts a hand on yours, comforting and soft, and you pull her into your arms and think about what your life used to be, what it could have been like for a mutant blood to be so pale for an indigo and for no one to care.

You fight this war for all of them, for the memories of companions you carry with you each day, but mostly you fight for him. For your moirail from another life.

When you are finally condemned, placed before all to see your mutant blood and heresies, he looks at you with such disgust that it makes your stomach turn, and yet you smile. You smile because it is him even if it's not, because it is fitting for him to be here now, in the end like he was before, even if the circumstances are so different, if he doesn't remember you at all.

Before you die, you tell him you are sorry. He doesn't seem to understand why, but he frowns none-the-less, and you die with the image of him in your mind, of a large hand on yours and the promise of a new life.


End file.
